Icarus
by rochesters
Summary: What if Jim Kirk and Leonard McCoy had followed through with their threats on Goa III? (AU-Between Two Points).


**Icarus**  
By Rochesters

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Author's Note:** I was anonymously prompted to write a 'what-if' Jim filed the paperwork he threatened in Chapter 12 of _Between Two Points _and it's aftermath. Here is the finished product.

Leonard McCoy used to be the type of person who held onto grudges. He would let them ferment, fester, and boil over. Sometimes he would pick at it - it being the situation - like a scab over a healing wound, just to see what would happen.

No good ever came of it. Just more hurt feelings and invisible scars.

Now that he's older, McCoy tends to let things go. Trivial arguments and bullshit have no time or place in his life, which is probably a good thing.

He's standing in the massive reception hall at Starfleet Headquarters, wearing his formal uniform - dug out of the back of his closet and dry cleaned - and holding a glass of bourbon on the rocks. His arm is snaked around his wife's waist, unconsciously fingering the fabric of her dress as she speaks to an Andorian ambassador.

Christine Chapel laughs at something the alien said and bids him farewell as he goes to make a round around the hall. She turns to McCoy, flashing him a smile as she sees the faraway expression on his face.. "You okay there," she asks.

"Just dandy," he replies, taking a sip from his glass. He feels the burn of the alcohol hit his tongue, palate, and throat. It's a pleasant sensation. "You know how much I love these things."

"You love them like a bleeding appendage," she quips.

"Hmm," McCoy hums. "Sounds about right."

This earns him a playful swat to his chest, to which he chuckles.

"He's not going to be here," Christine tells him, answering an unspoken question that had been running through McCoy's head. She takes his hand into her hands and squeezes it. "That's what Carol told me."

McCoy is mid-sip when she says this and he pauses, looking at his wife with a shrewd eye over the rim of his glass. "What do you mean he's not going to be here?" McCoy asks, lowering the glass.

"Don't shoot the messenger," Christine replies, holding her hands up in surrender.

"But this nonsense is for _him_," he says, baffled.

Christine shrugs, taking the glass from him and sipping the bourbon. "It's for the entire crew," she says, smacking her lips. "And that's what Carol told me."

McCoy frowns, clearly disturbed by the news, but somehow not surprised.

After returning from Goa III, Jim had made good on his threat and notified McCoy and Christine that he was indeed filing a formal complaint against the doctor on grounds of fraternization.

It had shocked the hell out of McCoy. Jim definitely had a temper, but he had never been downright malicious. Not once, not ever.

Instead of having to explain his relationship with Christine to a bunch of brass back at Starfleet, McCoy had made good on his own threat and resigned his post (with a lot of cursing and yelling involved, of course, because McCoy had one hell of a temper of his own). Hours later, Christine had informed the captain that she too was leaving.

If Jim was surprised, he didn't show it. He took the news with a stonewall face and accepted both of their resignations. No comment, no pleading, no apology. Just a 'fine' and signed off on the paperwork.

Just. Like. That.

There was an uproar on the _Enterprise_, so much so that Spock even tried to convince Jim to reconsider his actions and ask McCoy and Christine to stay.

McCoy wasn't sure what went on behind the closed doors of Jim's ready room, but in the end, Jim never relented his stance.

Not once, not ever, and that was that.

Amongst tears and anger, McCoy and Christine disembarked at the next space station and caught a shuttle back home to Earth. They arrived back in San Francisco several weeks later to job offers at Starfleet Medical (as well as other hospitals in and around San Francisco...and all over the damn planet), elated relatives, and excitement to move on with their lives.

There was no more hiding their relationship, which was a relief to McCoy because he could finally walk hand-in-hand with his girlfriend without worrying about what others thought.

Jim Kirk is the furthest thing from their minds.

McCoy joins Starfleet Medical as a trauma surgeon, as well as taking a guest lecturer position at the Academy. Christine becomes a head nurse in oncology (and eventually went back to medical school to become a doctor). They settled into McCoy's high-rise apartment and life was good.

They get married, Christine becomes a doctor, and they have Joanna, a cherub faced little girl who had her mother's eyes and her father's dark hair.

Life was better than good. It was perfect.

It still is.

"But," McCoy stutters, "I don't understand, Chris. He loves this shit!"

Christine studies him and lets out a sigh. "You should talk to Scotty," she says, squeezing his hand.

So he does.

He comms the Scotsman the next morning, asking him if he wants to meet in Golden Gate Park for an early afternoon stroll to be followed by lunch. Scotty agrees readily, especially when McCoy mentions that Joanna will be with him.

Scotty, who is loud and in McCoy's opinion, just as crazy as Jim, is a natural with children and Joanna takes an instant liking to him. He coos over her stroller, waving at her, and indulging in the same baby talk that McCoy is happily guilty of.

"Aw, Leonard, the little one is a beauty!" Scotty exclaims in his thick accent. He is squat on the ground, smiling at Joanna as she giggles at him. "She looks just like you, but with Christine's eyes."

Joanna is nearly a year old and ever so curious about the world. She is charming like her mother, but can scowl in disapproval like her father. She is the light of McCoy's eye and makes him less grouchy.

"Does she scowl like you?" Scotty jokes.

McCoy makes a face. "Only when she's really cranky."

"How could this little angel ever be cranky when she has her daddy wrapped around her finger?" Scotty asks, more to Joanna than McCoy.

The little girl shrieks with laughter as Scotty tickles her belly and McCoy chuckles.

They walk through the park that intersects North of the Panhandle, where McCoy and Christine own a retrofitted Victorian. The two men catch up, not having seen each other for nearly five years.

"That was one hell of party last night," Scotty says idly. "Did you and the missus enjoy yourself?"

"That Starfleet parading is more of Christine's thing than mine," McCoy admits as he takes Joanna out of the stroller when she babbles in protest because her father isn't carrying her. He settles her in one arm and plants a kiss on the top of her head. "But honestly, we'd rather spend the evening with this one."

Scotty grins as he takes the stroller from McCoy. "Better company?"

"There's no contest," McCoy says, laughing as Joanna presses her face into his neck. He turns to Scotty and shrugs. "Can you blame me?"

"It's your lot in life to be surrounded by beautiful women, doctor," Scotty replies as they walk. They go another block before Scotty says, "I know that this isn't just about catching up, Leonard."

McCoy nods sadly. "How is he?"

"It's not good," Scotty answers, his eyes downcast. "It wasn't good after you left. People were angry, but eventually that dies down, you know? But Jim...I have no idea what happened."

"What do you mean?"

"Our boy hasn't been himself in a while, like someone took the piss out of him," Scotty explains in a low voice, not wanting to interrupt Joanna's nonsensical chatter.

McCoy nods, understanding Scotty's words as Joanna babbles in his ear and rubs her forehead against his cheek. He turns his attention to her and smiles. "What is it, Jo-jo?"

Joanna points up towards the sky, squealing and bopping around in his arms. She is trying to form words on her tongue, which is endearing. McCoy doesn't hide the fact that his daughter marvels him each and every day as she grows.

When Joanna pulls her father by his neck to nuzzle him, Scotty grins like an idiot.

"You're lucky," he says. "Life has been kind to you. Jim would envy you."

Later, when Joanna has been put down for bed, McCoy tells Christine about what Scotty told him. She is sitting on their bed, her legs tucked under her and leaning on one arm, listening to McCoy voice his concerns.

Christine has always been the more sensible of the two. She's far less hot headed than her husband and usually gets him to think about his actions before he actually does them.

McCoy is forever grateful, of course.

"What do you think?" he asks, pulling his knees to his chest.

Christine presses her lips together, something she does when she's deep in thought, and narrows her eyes. She tilts her head to one side and says, "I swear he's like Icarus."

"You're comparing him to a Greek god now?" McCoy replies back, almost dejected. "Really, Chris?"

Christine shakes her head. "First off, Icarus was _not_ a god. He's just a boy who didn't listen to people who knew better and ended up screwing himself," she explains. "Like your old pal Jim."

McCoy muses to himself that his wife never ceases to amaze him and this is no exception, despite not completely understanding what Christine means. "So what should I do? Tell _Icarus_ not to fly so close to the sun?"

"Too late for that," Christine quips. "You should comm him."

"That's all?"

"Well, if you are really that worried about him…" she replies. "From what Nyota and Carol have told me, it sounds like there is something to worry about."

McCoy shakes his head in disbelief. "What the hell happened up there?"

"People were upset," Christine reasons as she crawls across the comforter and wraps her arms around his waist, squeezing him. "And Jim is Jim."

"You mean he may act confident, but he was angry that no one sided with him?" McCoy flushes in annoyance. "It serves him right, you know. He should have _never_ filed that paperwork. Not like that – not out of anger or to protect his ego…"

Christine snorts in disgust. "Len, I love you, but you are dense sometimes," she retorts, giving him a sidelong look. "He knew that people were going to be upset, but he just never expected to be one of them."

"Huh?" McCoy says dumbly.

Christine props her chin up on his shoulder. "You were his best friend and probably the only _real_ family he had from what you told me. You were the only constant in his life. After we left and the dust settled, he realized what he had done and that there was nothing he could do to repair it."

"He could have commed me," McCoy spits out.

Christine arches a brow. "Oh really? Would you have really replied back?"

"Yes," McCoy argues, before realizing that no – he would have deleted it while yelling to the device that Jim Kirk could go fuck himself. "No."

Christine looks triumphant, but doesn't gloat. "Comm him tomorrow before your lecture," she says, planting a kiss on his temple.

"What if he doesn't respond?" asks McCoy, glumly.

"Then he doesn't and at least you know you tried," Christine tells him, kissing him on the lips. "Now…enough about Jim. I think my husband needs some sexual healing." She kisses him again, this time deeper and igniting a groan from McCoy.

When they part, he arches a brow. "You really need to stop listening to twentieth century music, darlin'," McCoy says as his wife kisses him again.

"Oh you love it," she retorts against his lips as they fall onto the bed in a tangle of limbs.

In the morning, he does comm Jim while watching Christine feeds Joanna in her high chair. Joanna will not allow anyone else to do it and screams like a murderous Klingon if someone even attempts it because it's her mama's job and she loves her mama.

The communique is simple: _Missed you at the reception. Hope all is well. MHMc._

He hits send, his stomach roiling with nerves. McCoy hears Christine let out a shout as Joanna throws baby food at her, hitting her on the cheek and splattering pared pears all over her sweater.

His nerves are forgotten as McCoy roars in laughter and goes to help clean up the mess.

* * *

Two weeks goes by before he hears anything from Jim.

In those two weeks, Joanna says her first word ('mama') and McCoy and Christine celebrate being married for four years. They have some of their old crewmembers over for a potluck dinner, since they were unable to attend their wedding.

The most entertaining portion of the evening is when Joanna is settled in Spock's lap, listening to him read from one of her many books and she turns around, calling him mama to everyone's amusement.

Except Spock, who is confused and attempts to explain to an eleven month old that he is not her mama, nor is he female.

"Spock," McCoy laughs, "she calls everyone mama."

Spock raises a brow. "How peculiar," is all he says before he continues reading to the little girl in his arms.

A few days later, McCoy hears from Jim. It's not so much that he hears from the elusive captain, who apparently has been avoiding everyone, but sees him standing in one of the parks at the Academy.

Christine and Joanna have brought McCoy lunch that day and make a guest appearance in his lecture. His students are in shock and awe that their gruff lecturer does have a soft side and coo over his baby girl, who loves the attention.

They are making their way across the grass, talking about their plans for the evening and Joanna takes in her unfamiliar surroundings. His baby girl is in one arm and Christine's arm linked through the other. McCoy couldn't be happier and it probably shows.

"Mama!" shrieks Joanna, her tiny hand nearly cobbering McCoy in the nose as she points towards the Bay. "Mama!"

McCoy gently pushes her hand down before she gives him a black eye and states in amusement, "Jo-jo, that's not your mama." He just so happens to glance up and that's when he sees Jim standing under the shade of a tree, watching them with those bright blue eyes.

Except they don't burn so brightly, McCoy notices from a distance. Not anymore.

"Len, what is it?" Christine says, noticing her husband's sudden change of demeanor. "Len?"

McCoy turns to her. "Can you hold her for a second?" he asks, passing Joanna to her. "I think I see Jim. I'll be right back."

"Okay," Christine says, unsure as she takes Joanna. "We'll be right here."

McCoy hurries across the grass, surprised that Jim hasn't moved from his spot. Upon closer inspection, Jim seems to be in a daze of sorts.

His eyes are glazed over, out of focus, and impossibly dull against his fair skin. McCoy can see stubble along his sharp jaw and cheeks. His hair is messy and unkempt and shorter from the last time McCoy saw the captain. The grey t-shirt he wears hangs on his frame, which is less robust.

This is what Scotty meant.

Jim Kirk looks lost, for lack of a better word. Lost and alone, despite a sea of people surrounding him.

"Jim?" asks McCoy as he waves a hand in front of the younger man's face.

He blinks once, twice and there is a flicker of recognition in those sad eyes. There is a ghost of a smirk and a soft voice that says, "Hey Bones." It's so soft that if a light breeze can come through, McCoy doubts he would have heard Jim speak.

"You okay there?" McCoy asks him, wishing he had his tricorder on him.

Jim nods, his eyes wandering back to Christine and Joanna. "You have a family," he observes sadly.

"Yeah," McCoy replies.

Jim cocks his head, furrowing his brow. "What her name?" he asks, referring to Joanna.

"Joanna," McCoy tells him. "She's a little young for you, kid."

A pitiful laugh escapes Jim's lips, followed by his eyes watering. McCoy sees his lip trembling as he bows his head, letting it hang over the ground with his arms at his side. "Bones," he murmurs, "I'm sorry." When Jim looks up, he's crying unashamedly. "I'm really sorry."

McCoy knows by the hopeless look on his face that Jim is really sorry, probably sorrier than he could fathom. Long ago, McCoy would have held a grudge and may have laughed in the kid's face before walking away, apology not accepted.

It would probably break Jim's heart if McCoy had done that.

He's too quiet for too long and Jim begins to fidget, wiping the tears from his cheeks on the back of his hand. The younger man straightens his posture and sniffs.

"Well," he says giving Christine and Joanna a final glance before looking at McCoy. He clasps his shoulder and gives him a grin, concealing that wounded expression on his face. "Just wanted to tell you that. See you around, Bones."

As Jim turns around, McCoy catches Jim's faux expression of confidence falling and Christine's allegory suddenly makes sense. Like Icarus, Jim didn't listen to those who knew better until he flew too close to the sun and fell.

Except, he's still falling and there's no one to catch him.

McCoy watches in silence as Jim walks away, wrapping his arms around his middle, and disappears down the pathway into a crowd of students and faculty.

For someone who shone so brightly, it's disturbing to see Jim be swallowed up by the crowd.

McCoy pulls out his comm from his pocket as Christine approaches with Joanna in her arms. He's punching in a message into the keyboard, his fingers trembling.

"Is everything okay?" she asks.

McCoy shakes his head as he hits send. "Icarus," he says. "Goddamn Icarus reincarnate."

This time it only takes three hours for Jim to respond to McCoy's communique.

Like before he shows up in person, this time wearing a sweater over his t-shirt as the weather has cooled down as the marine layer rolls in.

McCoy answers the front door and is greeted by a teary eyed Jim, who looks like he's about to change his mind and bolt when McCoy opens the door. "Hey kid," McCoy says thoughtfully.

Jim doesn't reply with words, instead thrusting out his own comm with McCoy's message on the screen: _I'm sorry, too. Please come and talk anytime. Address is 901 Lyon Street._

"Do you mean it?" he hears Jim asks as McCoy inspects the communique. McCoy looks up and sees Jim blink, tears falling down his cheeks. "Please tell me you mean it."

Instead of answering, McCoy just nods and pulls Jim into a hug, feeling the kid relaxing into his embrace and bury his head into McCoy's shoulder. Jim's tears are getting the material of McCoy's button down wet, but it doesn't matter because the doctor knows that like the other times before, he's putting Jim back together again.

"Every word, kid," he whispers into Jim's hair. "Every single word."

Eventually they will go into the house, but for now, both men are perfectly content with where they are standing.

**FIN.**


End file.
